Fairest
by rubylaurus
Summary: A Prince with hair as dark as a raven and skin as pure as snow. A Queen with two desires: beauty and power. A handmaiden with a curse that prevents her from telling a lie. A King that has mere months to live. The competition of a lifetime. SYOC closed (unless you've already PMd me but haven't submitted the character yet).
1. Chapter 1

"Wait for me, Snow," Mira called, racing through the hallways of the castle. Her tutoring session was officially over, and she was determined to spend the rest of the day playing with the 10 year old Prince.

He turned over his shoulder and called, "You've got to keep up."

Mira scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue. "It's not my fault you've got the longest legs in the castle," she complained. It was true. Though Snow was almost three years her junior, he stood taller than most others that lived in the palace. He was almost a foot taller than Mira herself.

"But it is your fault that you're 13 years old and can't even run faster than a tortoise," Snow teased. "Maybe you should start running instead of playing with me all day."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Mira panted. "I thought babysitting you was going to be easy."

"Babysitting? You insult me," Snow cried, his jet black hair flopping wildly.

They weaved through the corridors, knocking away several different advisors and courtiers, ignoring any reprimanding that was thrown their way. The Queen herself could have yelled at them and they wouldn't have cared.

When Mira ran headfirst into a woman, bowling them both to the ground, Snow finally ceased his relentless pace and turned back to help, pulling his jet black hair out of his face. When he saw who Mira had run into, his face took on an even paler shade of white than it already was.

"Queen Circe," he stammered. "We're so sorry. We didn't mean to-"

"Silence," the woman said softly, rising to her feet as if she hadn't just been knocked to the ground. "I don't want to hear your excuses."

Mira gulped as she struggled to stand. Of all the people to anger, Snow's step-mother was at the bottom of her list. Circe was tall, powerful, and everything that Mira wasn't. She felt her cheeks turn pink.

"You're the girl from New Persia, aren't you? The one who's whore mother ran away from her country to try and find work in Illea?" the Queen demanded.

Mira could only nod.

"You aren't exactly in a position where you can be slamming into Royalty, then, are you?" Circe asked. She leaned down and held one of Mira's braids in her hand. "Such beautiful hair. So golden. Just like your skin. Now, tell me, don't most people in New Persia have hair as dark as Snow's? How on earth did you manage to get so lucky?"

"I was cursed as a baby," Mira explained, despite Snow's desperate gestures to cut off the story. "When the sorceress touched my forehead, my hair turned golden."

"A curse, you say?" Circe mused. She bent down on one knee so that her glittering green eyes came level with Mira's chocolate brown ones. "What kind of curse would that be?"

Snow grimaced, drawing a hand around his neck. Don't tell her, was his silent plea. Don't let her know what's wrong with you.

Mira bit her lip. "She cursed me so that I could never tell a lie, no matter how hard I tried."

Circe's eyes lit up. "Is that so?" she exclaimed. "How fascinating. Shall we test it out?"

"If you want to," Mira said hesitantly.

The Queen tapped her chin for a few moments, then asked, "How many provinces are there in Illea?"

"I don't know."

Circe scowled. "I thought you said that you could only tell the truth."

Mira nodded her head vehemently. "It's true, your Highness. I cannot tell a lie. However, I truly do not know how many provinces there are in Illea. So saying, "I don't know," would be a perfectly legitimate answer."

"That's fascinating," Circe said, waving a hand of dismissal towards the girl. "Let's move on to the more important questions."

A positively wicked light came into her eyes. Snow shrank back in apprehension. "Mira, Mira," Circe purred, sounding for the world as though she was a cat about to pounce. "Who is the most beautiful person you've ever seen? Who is the fairest of them all?"

Mira closed her eyes, bracing herself for some reason that she couldn't explain. "You are, your highness."

A fire danced in Circe's gaze. For the first time, Mira found herself feeling truly afraid of the Queen. Her fear was echoed in the expression of Snow, who had backed himself against the wall.

"Excellent," Circe said, a cruel smile creeping onto her face.

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**well im back at it hehe. it's been like three days but i just cant wait any longer! i have this idea that i'm rlly excited about and i hope u guys are too. application form on my profile hop to it babes**


	2. Chapter 2

_~10 years later~_

"Mira, darling," came a soft voice.

Her eyes fluttered open, catching on her husband, Hunter, leaning towards her. She shifted in the bed, leaning closer to him. His scent overwhelmed her as she placed her head on his shoulder. "What?" she asked.

"It's almost six," he whispered, leaning down to run his lips across her ear. "Circe will kill us if we're not ready and outside her room in half an hour." Mira sighed, the quiet calm of early morning slipping away. She wished she could stay here for just a few more moments before the day began.

But finally, she rolled out of bed and made her way over to the closet. Her uniform as Circe's lady in waiting was a simple maroon dress with draping sleeves and a tight waist. It was always a pain to get on, especially with her corset, but luckily Hunter was there to help.

Once the two of them were dressed, they walked hand in hand to the servant's quarter, where a large breakfast was being cooked up as always. Nan, the head chef, waved to them as they entered. Her wispy white hair was pulled up into the same handkerchief it had been for the last 20 years and she held a spatula as though it were a scepter.

"Mornin' Mira, Hunter," she called, her Scottish accent cutting through her words. "What's a fancy Lady in Waiting and Personal Guard like you two doing up so early? We don't usually be seein' you 'til long after eight."

"Circe has an early meeting," Mira explained. "She told us that if we weren't ready by 6:30 she'd-"

"Have yer heads, yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Nan said, scooping a large portion of oatmeal onto both plates. "You two watch out for yourselves. A Queen without her beauty sleep is not a force to be reckoned with. May I ask what the meeting's about?"

Hunter nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Prince Snow's return from boarding school," he answered.

"And, more interestingly, his Selection," Mira added. "Or rather, lack of it. Circe is determined to put it off for as long as possible."

"She wants to put her own son on the throne, she does," Nan crowed. She smacked the table, an angry light growing in her eyes. "That hussy. Our Snow deserves to be King and deserves a proper wife. You make sure he gets his Selection, why don't you?"

Mira laughed softly. "I would if I could. Unfortunately, I don't really have a say."

Nan shook her head. "Ye always have a say, dear. It just depends on whether or not yer willing to take the risk."

"Sound advice as always, Nan," Hunter said, kissing the chef on the cheek, "but if you'll excuse us, we're going to be late. And I don't know about Mira, but I don't want to have my head sliced off any time soon."

"Oh, be off with you then," Nan said affectionately, waving them away.

Mira and Hunter put their plates by the sink, then began the trek up to the top of the Queen's tower.

When the Queen greeted them, she looked significantly more annoyed than she usually was, which was an accomplishment. "You're late," she said. "I asked that you be here at half past six."

"It _is_ half past six," Hunter said.

Circe only rolled her eyes. "Then you should have been here five minutes ago. Come on, the meeting can't start until we get there and I'd like for it to be as short as possible. Snow is arriving at noon and I intend to be there."

"Of course, your Highness," Mira said, ducking her head.

It didn't feel real that Snow was coming back today. He had been away at boarding school for the last two years in an attempt to educate him in ways other than what was taught in Illea. It had been Circe's idea. She'd intended to keep him there until he was well into his twenties, but nobody else had agreed.

"Mira," Circe said as they went back down the stairs. "How do I look today? Details, please."

"Very intimidating. Beautiful, as always," Mira said, her voice monotone. This was a daily ritual between the two of them. "And if you're wondering about how it compares to yesterday, I would say it's less inviting but definitely more eye catching."

"Perfect," Circe said, using a finger to carefully adjust her lipstick. "We have people to impress today."

When they arrived at the planning room, an array of dignitaries and advisors were already assembled around the table. They all stood as Circe entered, more of a habit than an actual formality.

"We were wondering when you were planning to show up, your Highness," Advisor Ramirez said. He gazed at the Queen with disdain, and Mira winced at the outburst she knew was coming from Circe.

"The blame, then, should fall on my Personal Guard and my Lady in Waiting. They were rather late this morning. They apologize for any inconvenience they've caused you." The passive aggressiveness that dripped from Circe's voice silenced any complaints that Ramirez might have had.

Mira and Hunter exchanged a glance as the meeting finally came to a start.

.

.

.

Queen Circe slammed her fist down on the table. "I don't give a damn about Kingly duties. Snow is not going to have a Selection. It's unthinkable. I mean, what would the people say?"

"Why should it matter what the people say?" Adviser Ramirez argued. "What matters is that the Prince finds a bride. It's mandatory that he produces an heir. And since he will be expected to take over as King in the next few years, the Selection should take place as soon as possible."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but the Prince isn't the easiest person to get to know," Circe mentioned, shooting Advisor Ramirez a lethal glare.

"Which is exactly why we should give him as much time as possible to meet his future Queen," the Advisor groaned, clearly exasperated. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then turned to address the rest of the people sitting at the table. "Can we all agree? Are we done here?"

Queen Circe growled. "We're not done until I say we're done, Renaldo. My son-"

"Step-son," Ramirez interrupted.

"My _step-son_," Circe hissed, "has been at boarding school for the last two years. What will he say when he returns only to find that we're planning his entire future for him? Do you really think he'll be OK with that? Because I don't think he will. I don't think he will at all."

Though Circe had concern in her voice and tears in her eyes, Mira knew that it was an act. The Queen didn't care for Snow's well being or feelings. She cared that as soon as the Prince became King, she would be removed from her position of Queen. And Circe was not the type to give up power without a fight.

"Then what is your suggestion as to finding the Prince's future bride?" Ramirez challenged.

Circe wiped a crocodile tear from her eye. "_I _think we should bring a Princess from across the sea to the castle, introduce her to Snow, and pray they get along. If they don't, we can send her back. We shouldn't force him into some marriage that he doesn't even want."

"If you don't mind my saying so, your _highness,_" Ramirez muttered, "I don't think that you have the right to speak for Snow about what he wants. And your whole Princess idea would simply prolong the length of time spent searching for a bride."

Suddenly, the low and slurred voice of the King came from the back of the room. "I think my son should marry this beautiful young lady over here."

Mira blushed as she realized King Peter was pointing towards her. "Your Majesty," she said softly, "I'm already married. Besides, Snow is like a brother to me." She felt her cheeks turn pink with everyone's attention on her and did her best to blend back into the background.

"Married? To whom?" the King demanded, suddenly outraged. "It seemed just yesterday you were a little girl."

By now, Mira's face was a deep purple. "I'm married to Hunter. The Queen's personal guard. He's standing right over there."

From his spot at the door, Hunter winked over at her. Mira smiled discreetly at him, knowing he was likely laughing at her embarrassment in his head.

"Shh, darling," Circe said, dropping her harsh tone and rushing over to her husband's side. "Calm down. Have you taken your medication today?"

The King stared off into the distance. "I can't...can't remember."

"Have some more, then. I don't think you have," Circe urged, producing a couple of pills from the pocket of her dress and handing them to King Peter, who swallowed them absentmindedly.

Mira knew that the King had been given his daily pills right before lunch.

"Anyways," Ramirez said, "I think that instead of putting words into Snow's mouth, we should involve him in the discussion."

Circe waved her hand. "You know what he's like. I don't know what state of mind he'll be in after coming home from the Academy."

"Well if you're curious, he's arriving now," Mira said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "This discussion has gone two hours past when it was supposed to end. If any of us want to greet Snow, we need to head outside to the driveway now."

"This isn't over," Circe warned, sending Advisor Ramirez a wicked look.

"Agreed," Ramirez said as he tidied up his papers.

.

Mira and Hunter stood towards the back of the crowd that assembled as Prince Lorenzo's carriage pulled up. Though the meeting before had been a bore and even downright painful at times, Mira couldn't stop the excitement from growing inside of her.

She'd known Snow since she was a small child. Right after she'd moved from New Persia, her mother had become a maid for King Peter's first wife. In fact, Mira had been the one to give the Prince his nickname, Snow. Lorenzo had been too much of a mouthful for the little girl to pronounce.

It had been hard to find work. Mira's mother hadn't been able to speak a word of english. They were poor New Persian immigrants wandering the streets of Angeles with which nobody with any decency would want to associate.

But then the previous wife of the King, Lena, had taken them into her home and offered them a safe place to stay. Mira thought back on the old Queen. She'd permitted her to roam the castle freely, as long as she kept Snow within her sight.

Speaking of the Prince, Mira could see him climbing out of the carriage now. She reached over and grabbed Hunter's hand, heart speeding up in anticipation.

"His hair has certainly grown," Hunter remarked. "It's longer and much bigger than I remember."

Prince Lorenzo Peter Elias Schreave was not what one would call a normal boy. His hair was dark as the night sky, his skin as pure and fair as snow. Freckles covered his face and emphasized his beautiful blue eyes. In addition to this, he stood at over six feet tall, towering over all except for Hunter.

Mira could tell that his mind was wandering. His expression was distant, as if he were planets away. This was not an uncommon occurrence. Like his father, Snow often spent his time lost in a world of his own.

Doctors were worried that the Prince had the same condition that the King carried. The disease for which Peter had to take a daily medication for. In fact, just to be safe, the Royal Physician had encouraged Circe to begin giving Snow the same medication about five years ago.

Once Snow had greeted all the various dignitaries, they were promptly dismissed. The only ones left were Snow, King Peter, Circe, Hunter, and Mira.

"Hello, my darling boy," Circe said, sugary and smooth as always. "We've missed you so much here at the palace. Are you happy to be back?"

"Yes," Snow said simply. He dodged the kiss she aimed at his cheek, then turned to his father. "Where's Edward?"

The King's head snapped up out of his daze. "Edward?" he murmured. "Your...your brother. I don't know."

"Your father's had a long day. He's a little out of it," Circe explained, putting a guiding hand on Snow's back and starting the walk back towards the castle. "As for Edward, he's still in his tutoring session. You can greet him once he gets a basic grip for postmodern Illean geography."

Snow simply nodded. He drifted past his father and step-mother, finally catching a glimpse of Mira and Hunter. For a moment, a smile cracked through his cloudy expression and for a moment, his eyes showed shocking clarity.

"Hey," he said, stepping forward and meeting Hunter in an embrace. The two of them clapped each other on the back, then Snow turned and approached Mira.

"Hi, you," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Did you get taller?"

"Did you get shorter?" Snow retorted.

"Enough of this," Circe said as she rolled her eyes. "Snow has many things to attend to in the castle. Let's not waste the entire day."

As she spoke, Snow's eyes returned to their natural, foggy state. He stared towards Circe's direction, though Mira could see that his gaze wasn't focused on the Queen, but somewhere far away. "I suppose," he mumbled. "I suppose."

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**go submit pleez i need gorls**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Snow?" Mira asked. The two of them were seated in the Library, an old haunt of theirs from before Snow had left for boarding school. The boy looked up at the sound of Mira's voice.

She sized him up. "Have you ever been in love before?"

"No," he responded. "At least, I don't think I have."

"There was no secret romance while you were away at boarding school?" Mira teased, poking him with her foot.

"It was an all boys school," Snow answered, "and I happen to be a heterosexual man."

"Suit yourself," Mira said with a shrug.

Snow kept his gaze on her. "What about you?" he asked. "Have you ever been in love?" For a moment, Mira was about to reprimand the boy for forgetting that she was married, then saw the twinkle in his eye and realized he was joking.

"Hilarious."

The grandfather clock in the corner of the Library suddenly began to chime. Mira counted seven golden rings, then turned back to the warm leather book in her lap. She was lost in the middle of a thrilling adventure about a girl who's stepmother poisoned her. However, she was again yanked back to reality when Snow pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I mean, aside from potentially having a life threatening disease that would kill me before I'm 21, I'm just peachy," Snow said, downing and dry swallowing one of the pills. He flashed a plastic smile up at Mira. "They're apple flavored."

"What about the Selection?" she asked.

"What _about _the Selection?" Snow repeated. He tucked the pill bottle back into his pocket and picked up the book he'd been reading. "I'd be thrilled. I would meet the love of my life. It would be broadcasted on public television. Yay."

"I think that boarding school made you a bitter person," Mira said, kicking him in the shin. "How are you actually feeling about it?"

"Nervous," was Snow's honest reply. He kept his eyes averted to the ground, unable to meet Mira's gaze. He scuffed at the carpet before continuing, "I know that I already wasn't the easiest person to get along with before this blasted illness. Now the medication just makes me...dazed. Like I'm not quite attached to reality."

Mira felt concern wash over her. The medication was supposed to help the Prince, not make him feel like an imposter in his own castle. "What do you mean?"

"Well at boarding school, the boys would tell me things I said that I didn't even remember saying. Apparently, I quoted an entire monologue from Hamlet to my dorm mate one night at one in the morning. I've never even read Hamlet," Snow exclaimed. He shook his head, letting his mop of hair fall into his eyes.

Mira scowled. "You should tell the Royal Physician," she commanded. "Or Circe. That's not good."

"If I told Circe, she would say that was what the medications were supposed to do," Snow said with a dry look at the Queen's portrait on the wall. "She says she thinks that Father's on an upward spiral. But he seems as though he's gotten even worse that when I left." A sudden panic overtook his face. "I don't want to end up like my father," he said. "Mira, you have to help me." The urgency in his voice made Mira's heart clench.

Mira stood and rushed to Snow's side. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his, like she'd done when he was a child. "Do you want me to sing to you?" she asked.

Snow nodded. Back when he was a young child, and Circe had only just married his father, Snow had been sent to Mira and her mother's chambers nearly every night. Mira's mother would sing him lullabies from New Persia to charm him to sleep.

Stroking his hair, Mira began to sing.

.

.

.

That night, as she lay restless in bed, Mira thought of her interaction with the Prince. It had shaken her. He seemed to live farther and farther away from reality each time he swallowed one of those pills.

She tossed in bed again, unable to let sleep claim her. Finally, she reached up and turned on the lamp, grabbing a book from the bedside table. She flipped the pages frantically until she found where she'd left off.

A low grumble came from the other side of the bed. Hunter turned over to face Mira, sleep still clouding his face. "Honey," he complained. "It's the middle of the night. Please go to sleep."

"I can't," she said, trying to keep her voice stable. A tear slid from her eye as she glared down at the book, willing it to somehow give her the answers.

When he saw her expression, Hunter sat up in bed, suddenly much more alert. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey. What's wrong, love?" He slid his hand over to rub her shoulder, a comforting motion that only minimally calmed Mira's fears.

"Snow is dying. Snow is dying and there's nothing that I can do about it. And that manipulative bitch is doing everything she can to sap any ounce of joy he might have had these last few years. It's awful," Mira burst out, breaking into sobs. She reached up and swiped away the drops that were rolling down her face.

Hunter put his arms around her and pulled her down to lean against him. He ran one hand up and down her arm while he gripped her hand with his other. She nestled her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to relax into the comfortable familiarity of her husband.

"Oh, love," he murmured, pressing his lips into the top of her head. "Oh, love, I know. I know. I feel the same way."

"It's not fair," Mira cried. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Hunter's bare shoulder was warm against her cheek. She pressed her forehead against his, then settled back onto her own side of the bed.

Hunter kept his fingers interlocked with hers. "Try and get some rest. You won't do Snow any good while sleep deprived. OK?"

"I love you," Mira murmured.

He smiled, the dim lamplight flickering in his eyes. "I love you, too." He leaned over and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Now get to sleep."

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.

.

In the morning, Snow was as distant as ever. "Gray skies mean surprise," he said, staring through the window. "Blue skies catch your eyes. An orange sun mean's trouble's begun. But a leaf of green means a healthy queen."

"That's beautiful, Snow," Circe said from across the breakfast table. "Did you learn that at boarding school?"

"No," he said. And that was it. He didn't speak for the rest of breakfast.

That night, Mira was in charge of Circe's makeup for the Report. In truth, she didn't do much. Circe was already looking flawless by the time Mira started blending her face with a superfluous brush.

"What's happening on the Report tonight, your Highness?" she asked, determined to make pleasant conversation even if she wanted to throw up every time she looked at the Queen.

Circe sighed. "Nothing much," she said dismissively. "I'm going to talk briefly about the deal with Italy concerning the loan for their new endeavour into the world of nuclear weapons. Then Snow is going to be interviewed about his return home. And nothing else." She shot a wicked glare at the Prince, as if even his presence was threatening the balance of the reign of fear she'd established over the castle.

It was very clear to Mira that Circe was not in the mood for conversation. So she made a few last swipes, then retreated to the backstage area where she always stood with Hunter and a few other guards.

The host, Benson Blue, was seated at the front, his charming smile plastered on for the cameras. Benson was not the brightest of people, but what he lacked in intellect, he made up for in attractiveness and charisma. The people of Illea adored him, and so did everyone in the castle.

When the flashing light on the camera went from blinking red to green, Benson began with his usual greeting. "Good evening Illea, welcome back to the Report, the program all of you out there love to hate. This week we have a very special Report planned. As you may or may not realize, there's a familiar face sitting behind me."

He turned around and waved excitedly to Snow, who raised his eyebrows at the Host. From the dim look in his eyes, Mira could tell that he'd already taken his medicine for the night.

"But first a few words from our beloved Queen Circe," Benson said, urging the studio audience to cheer loudly.

Circe ate up the attention, smiling and walking to the front as if she were a pageant queen. She took a delicate seat next to Benson, who kissed her hand. All the anger and hostility were gone from her face as she adressed the camera. It was like Mira was looking at a completely different person.

After her segment, it was time for Snow to make his first appearance back from school. The crowd didn't need prompting this time. They roared all on their own. Snow was a people pleaser without even trying, and Circe knew it. Mira saw the Queen's eye twitch as Snow took his seat.

"Wow, incredible to see you, good sir," Benson said. "It feels like you've been gone forever. Tell me, how was Ebony Private School?"

"EPS was amazing," Snow said, obviously putting little to no thought into his response. "I had the time of my life. But I am also incredibly happy to be home."

"We're glad to have you back," Benson said, giving the Prince a hearty clap on the back. He glanced sly at the audience, then turned back to Snow. "Tell me, you have any big plans now that you've returned to your home turf?"

There was a dangerous glint in Snow's eye. Mira's breath caught as she realized what was about to happen. Circe shook her head slightly, horror in her gaze.

"I'm having a Selection," Snow replied, a smile creeping onto his face.

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**ooh our boy snow sliding in with the announcement on live television so circe can't say no hehe. thx to everyone who's submitted a gal or reserved a place! they are all great. quick announcement, my pinterest is being super wacky so im using my cousin's acc (she doesn't use it anymore so dw). if u want to see the characters go on over to Charlotte Jones. im slowly but surely working on all the sections for the submitted. ok that's all for my info dump thx for reading babes!**


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as the lights were out, the studio audience was gone, and the superfluous maids and guards were removed from the vicinity, all hell essentially broke loose. Snow tried to get a head start and make his way up to his room. However, Circe broke through the back exit doors and stormed towards the Prince. Mira and Hunter followed desperately, King Peter trailing listlessly behind them. Benson Blue was the last one out, looking confused and lost in the middle of all the action.

"Your Highness," Mira panted, coming up behind the Queen and putting her arm on Circe's shoulder. "He didn't mean it. You know how he gets when he's on the medication. He probably didn't even know what he was saying."

Snow spun around to face his step mother and Mira, his cloak whirling dramatically. "On the contrary. I knew exactly what I was doing the entire time. I decided not to take the pills today so that I would be lucid for the Report."

Circe growled, yanking her arm away from Mira's grip. "Those pills are the only thing keeping you healthy. You would sacrifice your health in order to appear respectable for a stupid little program?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Snow said. "I would."

"Your Highness, please, just let me take him back to his chambers and make sure he's OK. He seems delirious," Mira said, with a pointed glare in Snow's direction.

However, neither the Queen nor the Prince was paying any attention to her anymore. "You stupid boy," Circe hissed, "you've ruined everything. We had a plan. We were going to bring the Italian princess across the sea, introduce you two, and then send you over to become a ruler over there."

"So that you could put Edward on the throne?" Snow accused. "So that you could continue to have any semblance of power? So that I wouldn't take away your right to make decisions that only benefit you?"

Edward, only 15, shrank away from the outburst. Mira wrapped her arms around the young boy, while Hunter stood protectively in front of them both. All they could do was press themselves against the wall and pray that the hostile exchange would soon be over.

"How dare you? After everything I've done for you? After I stepped up to raise you once your mother died?" Circe cried. She reached up and gripped Snow's shoulder, gazing intently into his eyes. "If it weren't for me, you'd be lost."

Snow snatched her hand off his shoulder. "You never gave me anything. It was Mira and her mother that helped me. Not you. You were too busy usurping my father's power. Even now you aren't helping me. You're just trying to keep your power. Well at least now I have the chance to be happy. At least now there are girls out there who can dream."

"We will discuss this in the morning," Circe said coldly. The fire was gone from her eyes, replaced with an icy metallic sheen.

"Fine," Snow spat. Then he withdrew the medication from his pocket, shook a couple pills into his hands, and swallowed them.

Circe rolled her eyes and stalked the other direction. Once she had turned the corner, Mira, Hunter, and Edward rushed to Snow's side.

"I don't even want to be King," Edward said earnestly. "I swear. I would never try and take that away from you. You deserve to take over from father."

Snow ruffled his brother's hair. "I know you wouldn't, Ed. Your mom's just a little bit crazy."

"A lot crazy," Hunter muttered. "I haven't seen an outburst of that size since you left. I think your return has put her on edge, Snow. You make her feel threatened."

The Prince smiled. "Good."

Edward slumped against the wall. "I don't want to sleep in my room tonight. It's right next to hers and she paces until ungodly hours when she's upset." His expression seemed to be almost broken in the dim light of the corridor. Mira felt her heart squeeze as she looked at the young boy, just as much her brother as Snow was.

"You are always welcome to come sleep in our chambers," she said, taking Hunter's hand. "There's more than enough room. Snow could even come too, if he wanted."

Hunter nodded, putting a hand on the crown Prince's shoulder. "It would be our pleasure to host such important guests. Plus we have a new bottle of chardonnay in the kitchen that I've been dying to break into."

Edward grinned gleefully. "Count me in."

"No," Mira cried, though her refusal soon turned into a laugh. She pinched Edward's cheek as the four of them started off towards the servant chambers. "You're still a baby in my mind, you know."

"Oh, I know," Edward said, his voice filled with indignation.

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.

.

In the morning, Edward was out before seven AM for his daily tutoring sessions with the one of the scholars from the nearby University. Mira herself had had the same tutor when she was that age. He'd been a dreadful bore, as well as prejudiced. He couldn't understand why Queen Lena, the first wife of King Peter, had offered to pay for some vagabond servant girl from New Persia to receive tutoring.

Instead of going back to sleep after that, Snow, Hunter, and Mira headed to the kitchens in order to grab a bite with the other servants. They were welcomed warmly, especially Snow, who had been close with many of the maids and guards.

It was only five minutes into their meal when the summons came. "Mira," came the urgent voice of Nan, the head chef. Mira turned to see the old woman exchanging urgent words with a boy that was unmistakably one of Circe's personal messenger. He was dressed from head to toe in a bright maroon, the Queen's signature color.

Releasing Hunter's hand reluctantly, Mira made her way over to the two of them. "What's the issue?" she asked. "Is Circe summoning me?"

"Yes, ma'am," the messenger said. He couldn't have been a day over 16, about the same age as Prince Edward. "She says that she has a question of the utmost importance for you to answer."

Dread built in Mira's gut. She couldn't say for sure, but she thought she knew exactly what the Queen was going to ask. She'd been anticipating it ever since Snow got back from boarding school.

With a last, desperate, fleeting glance at Hunter, she followed the messenger out of the kitchen.

The walk up to Circe's room had never felt longer or harder. Usually, she had Hunter there to accompany her. The messenger was not a terrible person, but Mira didn't know him. She felt completely alone as her heart rate increased with every step she took. What would she find when she reached the top?

When they reached Circe's room, the boy nodded briefly at Mira. There was a hint of regret and worry in his eyes, but Mira knew there was nothing he could do to shield her from what was about to come.

She pushed through the doorway and entered Circe's chambers. They were dark, and smelled of wine and heavy perfume. Not a single window shade was open. It took a moment until Mira was able to make out Circe, sitting alone in the darkness.

"Your highness," Mira said softly, approaching the Queen. She reached for the lamp and clicked it on. What she saw knocked her breath away.

Shattered glasses littered the floor. Deep red wine stained the silky carpets. Circe herself was draped across her armchair, her body splayed dramatically in every direction Her slick black hair, usually glossy and straight, had been reverted to its natural wavy consistency.

"Take a good look at me," Circe said, dropping a chocolate into her mouth. "This is the last time you'll ever see me in such a state."

Mira hesitated, her hand hovering over a smashed wine glass. "Your highness, are you alright? Do you need me to call somebody?"

"Call somebody? Heavens no. They'd only make a scene. Do you think I want anybody else to see me this way?" the Queen asked. She shook her head, gazing around the room. "There are two reasons that you're the one that I called up here. Not Peter or Edward or even Hunter."

"It's because I can give you the answers you're looking for," Mira said bitterly.

"Yes, that's one of the reasons. Your gift does give you the opportunity to help me in a way that nobody else can. But there's another reason." Circe looked down at her hands. For a moment, a flash of vulnerability appeared in her eyes. "I...I know that I'm not a kind person. I know that most people in court despise me. And don't get me wrong, I despise most of them. But for some reason...you're one of the ones that I can stand to be around."

Mira didn't know what to say. She thought of all the times she'd complained about the Queen to Hunter late at night after a day of hard work and abuse of her kindness. If asked, she would say that Circe was her _least _favorite person in the court.

Instead of responding, Mira simply nodded. She couldn't say anything. If she opened her mouth, the curse would betray her and she would say something to Circe she would regret.

Circe sighed. "Listen to me. Blubbering like a baby. I think it goes without saying that you are never to speak a word of what happened here to anyone. Not even Hunter. Understood?"

"Understood," Mira repeated.

Circe nodded, staring at the ground. "Now, you also guessed the main reason that you were called here. I remember the first time you told me about your curse. I thought I'd stumbled across a gold mine. And after ten years, it appears that you are more useful than I'd originally thought."

Mira gulped. It was coming. She couldn't avoid it any longer. It had been a long time coming, she knew. Since Snow was a small child, there'd been whispers. People who claimed that one day, Snow's moon would eclipse Circe's sun.

The Queen stared at Mira, meeting her gaze for the first time since the attendant had entered the chambers. Her chocolate eyes gleamed in the low lamp light. "Mira, Mira," she mused. "Who is the most beautiful person you've ever seen? Who is the fairest of them all?"

She tried to delay it as long as possible. The answer screamed in her mind, begging to be let out. The longer Mira didn't reply, the worse the pounding in her head got. The worse the pulling sensation in her chest became. Finally she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Snow," she replied, out of breath from the effort. "Snow is the fairest."

As if she'd known what was coming, Circe just nodded, dropping her chin. "Alright. That's all. You're dismissed. I'll expect you back here at the normal hour."

"Yes, your Highness," Mira said, trembling. She backed out of the room, flipping the lamp off as she went. She felt a tug of worry as she watched the Queen, still seemingly staring at nothing. In the dim lighting, she could have sworn that the smeared lipstick on Circe's face was blood.

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**just when you thought Circe couldn't get any worse...she has a heart :( :( :(**

**thanks to everyone who has submitted a character! like a dingus, i forgot to set a limit, so i was just letting the girls roll in. I have more than enough now, so unless you've already PMd me about it, unfortunately the SYOC is closed. many thanks to all for reading, though and I hope all u americans had a good thanksgiving! i certainly did and now im in a complete food coma.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Charlotte Lafierre. That's Charlotte L-A-F-I-E-R-R-E. Age 20. Caste 4. Province Fennley. Occupation Baker," stated the man holding Charlotte's form. He looked up and smiled at her. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you as well," Charlotte answered, shaking his hand.

"Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself as we get these photos done," the man said. After filing her form with the others, he got behind the camera. "Where you from? Around here?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Not really. I mean, I live up on 100 North by 200 West. But I'm originally from France. My family moved here when I had just turned thirteen years old."

"Oh, vraiment? Parlez-vous francais?" the photographer chuckled, snapping a few pictures.

"Oui," Charlotte said, her face breaking into a surprised smile.

After a few more pictures, the man said, "So, Lafierre, huh? Tell me why that name sounds familiar. Are you somebody I should know?"

Charlotte laughed. "Oh, no. Not me. I'm just your everyday baker. You probably recognize the name Lafierre from the famous model and author, Sofie Lafierre. She was actually also a competitor on the Selection of King Elias. I guess I'm following family tradition in applying."

"You're related to her, then?" the man asked.

"Only very distantly," Charlotte assured. "People sometimes say we look similar, but I don't see it. I've got the blonde hair and blue eyes, sure. But I'm definitely no model. I've had one too many pastry to have any success in the business."

"Oh, come now, you're a beautiful young girl," the man said, waving his hands. "I bet all the boys are throwing themselves at your feet. I mean, just look at your smile. It's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds."

Charlotte just laughed. Many people had commented on her smile before. She was a joyful sort of person, so a happy expression was not uncommon from her face. However, she was also an easily flustered person, which meant she was prone to blushing. And as the man talked about her smile, she felt the blood rising to her cheeks.

"So why did we take so many?" she asked in an attempt to turn the attention away from her.

The man shrugged. "Don't know. I've been taking pictures of applications for years. Since the Selection of King Peter's mother, Regina. We always did just a single profile, straight ahead with a solemn face. But for this one, Snow asked for a few pictures. Don't know why. Maybe to get a better appreciation for the girls. I appreciate it. That young man is going places."

"Yeah," Charlotte said with a sigh. "Anyway, I've got to get back. My friends are all waiting for me. Thank you so much!"

"Au revoir," the man said with a tip of his hat.

.

"Ah, salut, ma cherie," Charlotte's mother said upon her return. "Tu as fait quoi avec tes amis?"

"We went and registered for the Selection," Charlotte said. She pulled her coat off and hung it up on the rack. Her long blonde hair tumbled out from under her beanie, catching the late afternoon light streaming in through the window. "You think I'll be the next Queen of Illea?"

"I think you are more likely to find a nugget of gold in one of Marie's eggs than even get Selected," her mother scoffed, nodding her head out towards the chickens in the backyard.

Charlotte sighed. "I know. But still, it's fun to dream, don't you think?" She gazed dreamily out the window where the animals roamed in the grass. She loved life here at the bakery, but couldn't help but dream of something more.

"You silly girl, you've always been more than happy here with us. Every morning I'm excited to see your beautiful smile." Her mother stood from her rocker and planted a kiss on Charlotte's forehead.

As she watched her mother return to the garden out back, Charlotte couldn't help but feeling a twinge of annoyance. True, she was known in her little town as "the local ray of sunshine". But that didn't mean that she didn't have hopes or dreams of leaving. Her energy sapped, she headed towards the kitchen, intending on creating the most perfect millefeuille Fennley had ever seen.

Though Charlotte had submitted a form for the Selection, she didn't know exactly what she was getting herself into. As she carefully prepared the dough, she let her thoughts wander to Prince Lorenzo, affectionately known as Snow. He hadn't very exposed to the public eye as a child, and when he went off to boarding school, he was seen even less.

Charlotte was intrigued. She knew that if she did end up getting Selected, Snow would provide an interesting person to get to know. His deep set blue eyes seemed to carry the weight of worlds and the intensity

.

.

.

"Margot Avila Halik. Cute name. Exotic. You Filipino? So is my cousin. Age 20. Caste 3. Province Kent. Occupation Doctor. Say...20? Isn't that a bit young to be a fully trained medical practitioner?" asked the wrinkled old woman who held Margot's submission form.

"Ok boomer," Margot muttered under her breath. It was an ancient expression from the early second millenium. She'd come across it in her research while studying throughout high school to be able to graduate medical school by age 18.

Out loud, she said, "I was very quick about my education. So yes, I suppose for most people it would be considered young." She flashed a smile at the woman, though she felt no warmth towards her.

"So why are you here, huh? You want to be the next Queen of Illea? You think you have what it takes?" the older woman asked, filing the form away and stepping behind the camera. She snapped a few quick pictures.

Margot didn't smile, or even make an effort to look nice for the camera. "I think that being the next Queen of Illea would be too much of a challenge, even for me," she responded. "I'm simply hoping, if I do end up getting Selected, for a little bit more exposure to the world."

The woman didn't speak to Margot the rest of the few minutes she was there. It was a silent, awkward encounter. By the time the session was over, Margot was feeling upset that she'd even come in in the first place.

.

"I'm home," she called as she slammed the door behind her. She expected no response, not at this time of day. Her words echoed through the marble entryway. The cold, giant house greeted her with no warmth as she slipped her shoes and jacket off.

The sound of footsteps down the staircase caused her to spin around. She caught sight of her boyfriend, Evan, coming down from the second floor, dressed in his pajamas rather than the usual button down shirt and dress pants that he wore most days.

"You're home early," she said, surprised. "I didn't expect you until five or six. What's going on?"

"I took a sick day," he responded, putting his arms on her shoulders and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

Margot shoved him away. "Don't touch me. I don't want to get sick."

Evan laughed. "I'm not actually sick," he said, ruffling Margot's hair. "I just wanted to come home and spend more time with you. After all, it's our anniversary."

Margot's heart dropped. "It's what?" she said.

"Our anniversary," Evan said, his smile dropping. "Did you forget? Honestly, that's so typical of you. It was two years ago today that the word got out you were in a relationship with your professor. I got you a gift, too."

"Shit," Margot whispered as he dropped a silver locket into her hands.

Evan grabbed her arm, his eyes peering into hers. "What's the matter? What did you do?"

As she strung the necklace and fastened it, Margot shook her head. "It's really nothing. Nothing life changing anyway. Well, probably not life changing. And I wouldn't have done it if I'd remembered it was our anniversary. Believe me." She cursed herself internally. Of all the days.

"Just spit it out," Evan said, rubbing his forehead.

Margot sighed. "I went and signed up for the Selection," she said quietly.

"You did what?" Evan cried.

"Calm down," she responded angrily. "I'm sorry, but it's not that big of a deal."

Evan groaned. "I'm sorry," he repeated, almost sounding mocking. "I'm sorry? I can't believe you. Think of what this could to do our reputation!"

"It's my reputation that I'm thinking of," Margot yelled back. "Remember when the news came out that we were dating? "Underage College Student Sleeps Her Way Through Medical School". I have to prove to them that I wasn't just some cute little slut who only knows how to get what she wants by sucking dick. So can you please calm down?"

"Don't be a bitch ass hoe," Evan growled. "I'm not going to calm down. You need to apologize instead of being a bitch."

"I'm not even going to be Selected," Margot said, rolling her eyes. She stormed past him and into the kitchen where a martini was simply calling her name.

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**how many meme references can i fit into one chapter? the world will never know. thx so much to the ppl who submitted these girls! not going to name names but Margot was submitted by The Cruel Pringle so ****¯\\_(****ツ****)_/¯ ALSO GUESS WHAT THE OK BOOMER SONG GUY WAS MY NEIGHBOR WHEN HE WAS A KID ALSO IM FRIENDS WITH HIS LITTLE SISTER SO HA**

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_Charlotte: a happy baker gal who is french! blonde hair that looks like sunshine because she is sunshine._

_Margot: "the human version of a cat". is a full on doctor that happens to date her old professor._


End file.
